


and everything was gray

by SheWhoWalksUnseen



Category: Black Lightning (TV)
Genre: Background Grace Choi/Anissa Pierce, Character Study, F/F, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Introspection, Post-Season/Series 02, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-11-02 13:42:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20766368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWhoWalksUnseen/pseuds/SheWhoWalksUnseen
Summary: Running is all she's known and it's all she'll ever return to.In other words, the whirlwind of motion that calls herself Grace Choi.





	and everything was gray

**Author's Note:**

> Rounding out my DCTVGen Bingo with one final, short ficlet before Season 3 of Black Lightning airs because I love my girl, even if she gets crumbs of screentime. Do her right, CW.
> 
> This is only my best guess at what Grace's powers are, given what little information we've gotten from the show since she's changed from her comics origins, so bear with me, and I hope you enjoy. <3

Running is all she's known and it's all she'll ever return to.

Sometimes she wishes it were different, that _she_ was different and the world wasn't so unforgiving toward people (_creatures_, hisses an ugly voice in the back of her mind on cue) like her. There's little to hope for though, not when she always fucks it up and everything changes, it always changes, and then -

And then she runs.

Over and over and over.

Sometimes she wonders what it would be like to have one name. One identity that is her own, that she doesn't have to run from.

For once in her life, Anissa gave her hope, however fleeting, and for once she wanted to latch onto it with both hands, clawing and screaming at the world to _fuck off_ because Anissa was _hers_ and this was _her_ life now. Her heart aches to think of what could've been, of the soft smiles and the teasing and the movie dates and cuddles on the sofa she's missing out on. It's been so long since she's had anything to hold onto and fight for, longer still since anyone's wanted _her_.

But is it truly her fault because she decided to run when things were good, she wonders? Is it her fault she's lurking under bridges and shedding skins from one body to the next in order to keep up appearances? Is it her fault she needs to survive?

Maybe not. Maybe it's Anissa's for pushing, always pushing and never knowing when to stop when the waves of uncertainty crest and crash and flood through her entire being, drowning all rational sense.

Or maybe she just wishes it was Anissa's fault. After all, it'd be easier to blame her problems on someone else or even the cruel world for giving her such shit luck. Anissa deserves better than someone so flighty, someone who can't stay put in one city for more than a couple years at a time. She saw it in Anissa's determination behind Thunder's strength and grit, the flash of hope in dark eyes even as she met Grace's punches with every fiber of her being - and wasn't that a whole other matter to deal with, Anissa being a genuine _superhero_ who wanted to save her from herself? How she hadn't seen it until now was stunning, or maybe she'd been too wrapped up in her own problems to notice anything was off.

Once upon a time, she listened to stories of knights and fairytales and happily ever afters, and she almost believed them. But things don't last - they're always meant to bend and break when you were someone like her, someone who deserved to be alone after all the mistakes and lives she'd ruined just by reaching out and touching them - and she knew then that they were simply stories. You could hope all you wanted, but things don't last and they never change, unyielding to all the screaming and the rage that sears her heart still, aching for something better. Something that might last longer than a couple of years before snapping in two at the first sign of trouble, before a beautiful woman carved of titanium and steel took her hand and smiled so bright it burned what was left of her broken heart.

Part of her wants to laugh at the idea of Anissa as her knight-in-shining-armor. Too many years too late and crashing through any walls in her way to find the truth, no? To save the girl, get the kiss, ride off into the sunset, no harm done?

Well, she'd hate to have to break it to Anissa, but _she's_ no princess, no hapless damsel squirming and swooning and wailing in the grasp of a dragon begging to be saved. She had to learn how to survive and fight and Anissa would never - _can _never - understand the cycle of pain she endured and still sprints on wobbling feet away from after all this time. Anissa knows nothing of crude men and hands striking bruised flesh and nights spent heaving and sobbing in the dark. Anissa wasn't there when calloused hands snatched her away, carrying her from home to home even as she struggled, sometimes breaking free long enough to bolt down the road and tear through bushes and undergrowth with barely any breath left in her quivering body. She didn't have to rewrite her life, her _identity_, just to fit in with what jagged edges she had left. There were no guardian angels back then, no knights or dragons, no superhero girlfriends who claimed to be able to protect her from herself.

So yes, maybe she did want to blame Anissa for trying to help and being the first person in so long who gave a shit about her wellbeing enough to follow the trail of breadcrumbs and hunt her down. Not to mention that she could really pack a punch with that ungodly strength thrumming through her bones; she could still feel the dull ache in her ribs from one particularly mean back-kick.

But Anissa wasn't the one who ran. Anissa wasn't the one still running and hiding in the shadows just to get far away from the one woman who made her lose control.

Control. She laughs, low and gravelly, her current form leaning heavily against the side of a building, hands trembling on her side. That might be the difference between her and Anissa after all.

Twenty-eight years should be enough to practice and contain and _hide_ the roar in her veins, but nothing changed. Anissa Pierce mastered her superpowers in what? Months? Maybe years? She got the sense that Thunder would've come out of civilian life earlier if she had been more prepared, or noticed her powers sooner.

God, she envies that ignorance.

What is it like to grow up with a family so supportive and kind and full of _love_ that the thought of anything else doesn't cross your mind? She wishes she knew, wishes she could empathize with Anissa's easy care and joy for life without tasting the tart, bitter tang that came from affection so sweet she could barely stomach the idea of breaking Anissa's heart.

There wasn't any heart to break now, not anymore. Surely Anissa would give up, would realize the trail had run cold and there were no more apartments, no more comic books, no more shapeshifting that could lead her to her final destination.

Was it selfish to hope she wouldn't, though?

Granted, knowing Anissa as well as she did, she doubts Anissa will go home and forget about her, much as she wants her to stay put and live her life as an honest-to-god superheroine. She rarely gives up, not when the action's just beginning. Anissa _lives_ for action and adrenaline, heart thundering (pun intended) deep in her chest as she dodges bullets and debris and rescues Freeland in the same breath.

She knows Anissa will come after her, and maybe she'll want to talk even if she hasn't figured out her secret by now, begging her to come back, to come _home_ -

She's exhausted. She's shaking from it, inhaling sharp through her nose as she peers around the corner at the two men closing up the convenience store across the road. A bone-deep hunger is already clawing its way inside and out, growling behind what little restraint she bears. It's been too long since she's eaten, feasted _properly_, and she hates that she craves it.

There is no home. Not behind her, not in Freeland.

Not with Anissa Pierce and her empty promises and optimism strong enough to move the earth.

After all, there was no Grace Choi for Anissa to come home to, no comic book lovers or bartenders or hard-to-please servers in sight.

There was only hunger and a woman who runs the moment the men at the store drive away, crashing through the feeble glass as her skin ripples and her insides turn out, shedding the broken skin so she may feast anew in the darkness alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream with me at my DCTV Tumblr @areyouscarletcold. Comments are always appreciated, and have a great day!


End file.
